


Take Me to Church

by 3scene5you



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2047791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3scene5you/pseuds/3scene5you
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t you kill yourself over me, Stevie,” he said solemnly “I ain’t worth it.”</p><p>“You are to me.” Steve says, lowering the now empty bowl.</p><p>“I don’t care, don’t you do it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic and I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing. It's un-beta'd, but if you'd like to beta for a newbie please send me an ask on my tumblr, at 3scene5you.tumblr.com. I hope you enjoy!

His blood splatters across the ground. It looks like violent red blossoms scattered across the pavement. He stands back up. There's a thud as a larger boy lands another blow across his face. Surely it will be all shades of purple tomorrow. If there is to be a tomorrow for him.

Every time he falls he gets back up. He regains his stance, planting his feet apart and raising his fists. He never manages to gets in a punch. The other boy is too fast. He's started feeling weak, his body weaker than his will.

This time when he falls he can't get back up. He curls in on himself. Blood drips from his nose and lip. He protects his organs from the innumerable blows being rained upon him. His world goes dark.

\---

Everything hurts. He can't move a muscle without his body crying out in pain. He can't even open one of his eyes, and the eye that can open is nearly blinded by the light. He groans.

"Woah, buddy. Easy there." He doesn't recognize the voice.

"Who-"

"Shhh" the man interrupts, and he assumes it's a man because of the lowness of the person's voice, "James, James Barnes, but you should call me Bucky. It's what everyone else does."

"Where-"

"Brooklyn," he's interrupted again.

"I know that."

A sharp pain reminds him of his busted lip.

"Oh, okay, well you're in my apartment, for starters. I couldn't get enough outa ya to figure out where yours was. Ya know, with you being all passed out and stuff."

"Did I at least win?"

The man-Bucky- laughs.

"Yeah, Kid. Yeah you won."

"I'm no Kid."

"Sure you ain't, Kid."

He moves to sit up, but pain gets the better of him.

"Watch it, pal! I don't need you gettin' more hurt or gettin' more blood on my sofa."

"Pal? You don't even know my name." He begins to slur, the pain getting to him.

"Well then, what the hell is it?"

"Steve," he manages. He's on the edge of passing out.

"Nice to meetcha, Steve."

Everything goes black again.

\---

When Steve comes to he hears humming. It's one of those silly and horrifyingly catchy tunes one often overhears spilling out of dance halls into the cool night air. There's pain everywhere, and he hears stupid goddamned humming. He opens his eye, the other still out of commission, and glances about the room. It's unfamiliar. There was a fight, he groans at its resulting pain as he remembers. There was a conversation too, a conversation with some guy named Bucky or something.

"Rise and shine, sleepy head!"

Oh god, the Bucky guy's talking again. But at least that means that the humming has stopped.

"I hurt enough already. I don't need your voice making me hurt even more."

Bucky laughs.

"That's no way to treat your new roommate!"

Steve wonders if everything that comes out of Bucky’s mouth is this goddamned chipper.

"Good thing you're awake. Ya need to eat, pal. You look like you were havin' a hard time before you got yourself into a fight. When was the last time ya ate?"

"Dunno,” Steve shrugs, “What day is it?"

"Wednesday, Kid."

"Aw hell, I was out that long?"

"Yeah, it’s my damn couch you’ve been sleepin’ on for two whole days. How do you think I feel?"

Despite what his efforts had done to him last time he tries sit up. Pain shoots across his chest, but he manages to push himself up anyways. It settles into a dull ache.

"Careful."

He looks up at the guy, Bucky. Even with his hindered eyesight Steve can see that Bucky's a tall guy. He stands at a height that Steve wishes he could reach. But his lot in life has left him a great deal shorter. Steve can barely make out the man's face, knowing only that his head is topped with a mess of dark hair. The guy shoots him a grin, or at least Steve thinks he does, the blur of Bucky's face moving, a flash of bright white appearing towards the bottom half.

"Here, take this."

Steve realizes that the man has been trying to hand him something, and takes it. He realizes quickly that it's a bowl of hot soup from the smell of it as well as the heat of the bowl in his hands.

"Thanks."

He feels around for the handle of the spoon. Finally grasping it, he shakily brings it to his mouth, dumping nearly half of spoon of the soup back into the bowl. He blows on it to cool it. Wincing when that aggravating his split lip. He figures that it's cooled enough by now, and drinks what's left of the spoonful.

And god is it awful.

Knowing that Bucky is probably watching him, waiting for him to continue drinking the soup, Steve repeats his actions, lifting another shaky spoonful up to his lips. He knows he's going to regret saying it later but he says it anyway.

"This soup is real good," he cringes at his obvious lie.

"Thanks. When you finish, I got plenty more."

Yeah, he regrets the lie.

"’Cause, it's real good."

He realizes entirely too late that this his repetition makes his lie even more obvious and groans inwardly.

"You don't need to lie to me, kid. I know I'm no good in the kitchen- and don't ask me what's in it. You won't wanna know"

"I - I wasn't lyin', Bucky. It's, uh, it's real good."

"Sure kid, you keep sayin' that. Repeating it doesn't make it any truer."

"Sorry."

"Yeah, I bet you are."

He sees what he thinks is another flash of teeth.

Steve returns to drinking the soup. It's not good, but it's warm, and he can't remember the last time he ate at all, let alone something warm.

"You must be real thirsty to be drinkin' one of my soups so quickly."

Steve keeps drinking, not acknowledging the truth behind Bucky's words.

"Just don't make yourself sick. You look bad enough as is."

Steve nods, pausing for a second. He knew that his being underweight and scrawny was not for lack of trying. Back when it was both him and his mother they took care of one another. Most of their combined incomes going towards rent, medical bills, and food. Now that it is just him, there is even less money to go towards food. His is a hungry existence, but an existence nonetheless.

"What did ya do? You flirt with his girl or somethin'?" Bucky asks, obviously referring to the fight.

Steve would've spit out soup would he had had any of it left in his mouth.

"Ah, so you just one of those fightin' types."

"I guess that's one way of sayin' it."

"Just be careful, the next guy ya pick should be closer to your own size."

"There aren't any guys my size. And I don't just pick someone. They gotta do somethin' first, somethin' I don't agree with."

"So what did the last guy do?"

"He was rude to somebody he should'na been rude to."

Bucky waits for him to clarify, gazing expectantly at Steve, who just pauses to drink more of the soup.

"A girl. He was rude to a girl who didn't deserve any trouble." Adds Steve after his drink.

"It's all well and good, Steve, but you ain't well and good, and one of these days you're gonna be found dead if ya keep it up."

"At least it would be for a good cause." He smiles grimly. "And who knows, maybe my body'll kill me off first, before one of them tough guys get a chance at me."

Steve doesn't like to think about it. He never has. But it's the truth. As much as he wishes he can be around to stop bullies forever, that isn't how the world works and he settles for stopping 'em for as long as, and in any way, he can.

 

He looks up at Bucky, "I never liked bullies."

"I don’t like ‘em either, kid."

\---

Steve knows that he needs to go home, and soon. His landlady has always been quick to assume that he’s lying dead in an alleyway, and not in a worried way. She was always trying to clear out his stuff and movie a new person in, probably one who would be more consistent in paying the bills.

“See ya around, kid.” Bucky says, holding the door open for Steve.

Steve nods back at him, thinking back on the past couple of days. He had been more lonely than he had realized without his mother. The company Bucky had afforded him was something Steve sorely needed, still needs for that matter. As much as he likes being able to handle things on his own, and you’ll never catch him say it, but he knows that handling things alone isn’t always possible. Winter is on its way, and he has never gotten through it without his mother. The heat in his dilapidated apartment almost never works, and when it does it barely makes an impact.

He can already feel the onset of colder weather as he hurries along the remarkably short distance to his apartment. He keeps his head down and his collar up, though his tatty coat does little to shelter him from the chill settling down over the city. He knows it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better. If it gets better.

One could say that he lives life on the edge, though he often does it by necessity rather than by choice.

\---

He’s happy to find his apartment untouched upon entering, after flicking on the lights and locking the door behind him. He can almost feel this disappointment felt by the landlady about his return through the multiple floors separating them.

He flops down on his bed with no couch to sit on like there is at Bucky’s. He picks at the threadbare blanket, remembering the company of the older boy. He wonders if he will actually see Bucky around. He certainly wants to. He still feels the emptiness he has felt ever since his mother’s death, but it’s a little less pervasive.

He had been friendless for all of his childhood, except for his mother. Steve had always figured friendship was a nice thing to have, but it wasn’t necessary to survival. He’s no longer entirely sure of that fact. He thinks on it, but he still doesn’t know whether Bucky had just found him in blacked out the alley or if he had scared off the other man. He was thankful, no matter which one it was.

Still comfortably stuffed from a meal with Bucky, Steve dozes off with the first full stomach he’s had for a long while.


	2. Chapter 2

Though he’s wary of the sheer mass of people living in Brooklyn Steve desperately wishes that he’ll see Bucky around soon. But busy searching for work, he doesn’t have a chance to stop by the older boy’s apartment, and even if he does get a chance to do so there’s no saying whether Bucky’ll actually be there or not.

Steve doesn’t see him for weeks. He wasn’t sure he’d actually ever see Bucky again, but there he is just across the street from Steve, standing outside one of the more popular dance halls with some girl on his arm. As much as Steve desires to see Bucky again, he knows that most guys don’t like being disturbed when they’re with a girl.

He continues to hurry past, keeping his head down, a rather common action of his, when he hears Bucky call out his name.

“Steve!”

He doesn’t stop, hoping that Bucky’ll just assume that he isn’t actually Steve, but to no avail. Bucky’s a lot faster than him, which is to be expected, jogging right up, barely pausing for a car to pass in front of him.

He slings an arm around Steve’s shoulder.

“You can’t hide from me kid, there’s no one else in Brooklyn who looks like you.”

“I was thinking that you might not want to be bothered, you being with a dame and all.”

“Nah, that’s just Clara”

“Seemed pretty cozy for a just. You sure ya don’t wanna go back?”

“I’m sure. I got the company of my best man, Steve.” Bucky says, grinning down at Steve, even white teeth glistening in the street lights.

Bucky stumbles a bit over a crack in the sidewalk, almost bringing Steve down with him.

“Whoops!” He laughs.

Steve realizes that Bucky must’ve been drinking. It made the already boisterous man even more so, made him laugh more readily. Steve likes when Bucky laughs. The sound ringing with a gaiety often found exclusively in small children and the insane. Maybe that’s why Bucky wishes to hang around Steve, insanity. Steve chuckles at the thought.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Bucky nudges Steve’s side for attention.

“Nothing important.”

“Knowing you, it’s something very important.”

Steve sighs. “Fine, just that you gotta be crazy to hang out with a bum like me.”

“You got it the wrong way ‘round, kid. I’m the bum.”

“Sure ya are.”

Bucky stumbles again, piercing through the front of sobriety put up by their conversation.

“You sure you can make it all the way back to your apartment?”

“Can you? You’ll probably try and pick a fight with someone on the way there.”

Steve grimaces, knowing that that’s been true in the past, but he had always been alone then, now he had Bucky to back him up. Not that he wants to put his friend in danger or anything, but he knows that Bucky will be there for him, no matter his drunken state.

Lost in thought, he almost doesn’t notice when Bucky trips again. Steve rushes to stabilize the guy, wondering how Bucky managed to even cross the road to get to him earlier without falling flat on his face. Knowing that Bucky would do the same for him, were Bucky the sober one and their location closer to his apartment, Steve decides to just let Bucky stay the night with him.

\---

Steve opens the door with a little bit of difficulty, having to support the larger guy while doing so, causing them both to almost fall into the apartment. As is customary, Steve is careful to lock the door behind him. The room is chilly and he realizes that the heating is, yet again, not working. He sighs, steering Bucky further into the one room apartment he calls home.

The apartment, being housed in one of the old tenement buildings, is extremely minimalistic. Originally each floor was separated into apartments with multiple rooms, but over time each of the rooms have been converted into singular apartments, meaning that they are extremely cramped, but Steve, being small himself, wasn’t to bothered too much. The bathrooms were shared, and all the way down the hall, but luckily enough there is a sink in the room so that he can do the washing up without leaving. There are a few cabinets alongside the sink, old with rusty hinges, they may have even been original. They certainly seemed old enough. The apartment isn’t much, but it’s home.

He knows that Bucky understands, his apartment being small as well, though not nearly as small as Steve’s. Steve only regrets the fact that he does not have a couch for either him or Bucky to sleep on while the other takes the bed.

He moves to place a blanket on the floor along with a pillow, so as to allow Bucky the bed. But Bucky stops him before Steve has the chance to do so.

“You’re my guest, I’m not gonna let you sleep on the floor, Buck.”

“Neither of us have to sleep on the floor. We can just share. I don’t bite.” Bucky’s already sitting on the bed, toeing off his shoes and pulling off his tie. “It’s cold anyway, and don’t you pretend that a blanket on the floor will keep you warm, ‘cause I know it won’t.” Already curled up, he pulls Steve down to sit next to him on the bed. “Don’t act like I don’t know how easily you must get sick.”

“Alright.” Steve sighs, exasperated, proceeding to take off his own shoes and lay out next to the larger boy.

Bucky pulls the blankets over the both of them.

Before falling asleep, Steve admits to himself that this really is better than sleeping alone in the cold room.

\---

When he first wakes Steve is disoriented. He is unusually warm and, well, snuggled up to someone. Someone much larger than he is. After waking up a bit more he remembers that the person behind him is Bucky, and buries himself further into Bucky’s warmth, knowing that it won’t last, that Bucky will wake up and leave. Bucky shifts, pulling Steve in even further, mumbling incoherently in his sleep. Bucky falls back into a deep sleep, his breath slowing into a calming rhythm, lulling Steve back into a state of sleep.

It doesn’t last for long. The little bit of daylight afforded by the apartment’s only window is enough to wake them both. Steve stays completely still as Bucky removes his arms from around Steve and instead stretches them above his head, a loud yawn leaving his mouth, pulling his face wide.

Face flushed, Steve quickly gets up. He straightening the clothes he slept in as he crosses over to the sink. He splashes some water onto his face, hoping it will calm the heated blush spreading quickly up his neck, tingeing everything it touches along the way a bright red. After thinking his face has calmed enough, Steve leans back, resting against the sink counter.

Across the room, Bucky lays back unabashedly upon the bed, hair messy, a large grin spread across his face. He eyes Steve from across the room. “Morning, sweetcheeks. You snore, you know that right?”

Steve pauses. “What? Oh. Yeah. My lungs are bad, just like every other part of me.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

After a small bout of silence, Steve rolls his eyes. “You know, I preferred when you were asleep. You talk a lot less.”

Bucky laughs, completely at ease again. “Aren’t I supposed to the moody one or something? It’s me who’s hungover.”

Steve snorts and rolls his eyes, doing his best to ignore Bucky, which, as he learned from his time of recovery spent with the boy, is the only true way to annoy him.

“How you fit all of that attitude into such a small body, I’ll never know,” asks Bucky, voice dripping with sarcasm, eyes wide with false wonderment.

“Shove off. Don’t you have somewhere to be? Someone else to annoy?” Steve softens his words with a grin.

“Nope, I’m all yours.”

“You’re too cocky to belong to anybody.”

The room’s only window may be no good for looking out of, featuring a splendid view of a wall, but the light coming in creates a golden halo of sorts that surrounds Bucky. Steve tries to commit the image of Bucky stretched out on his bed and alight with a golden glow to memory in order to get it down on paper quickly once he’s alone again.

\---

When Bucky does finally leave, Steve quickly pulls out his notebook from between the bed frame and his thin mattress. Flipping it open, he opens to a fresh page, passing by all those cluttered with sketches now suddenly unimportant. Taking his pencil to the paper, he lightly begins to sketch out the older boy’s grinning face, rushing to draw Bucky before he has a chance to forget the image. Even if Bucky wises up and ditches him for better company, at least Steve’ll have this as a keepsake.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been awhile. I had my last class on Friday and I don't know if it kept me from writing or spurred me on. Plus I still have no clue what I'm doing, but anyways here ya go!

Steve doesn’t know how Bucky always manages to pop up. They “happen” to see one another everywhere from the corner store to, unfortunately, Steve’s own apartment. How Bucky’d managed to remember Steve’s address is beyond him; he’d been extremely hungover when he’d first left. But it is a small enough neighborhood that if you know who to ask you can find almost anyone, and Bucky must know who to ask because he is constantly finding Steve.

Unfortunately, today is not a prime day for one of Bucky’s sudden appearances. The many colds and illnesses that run rampant during the winter months are already getting a leg up on Steve due to his constantly weakened state. That, however, does not stop Bucky from showing up, unwarranted, rather early in the morning.

“Good morning, Sunshine!” Bucky exclaims rolling on in. He doesn’t even knock, instead barging in having long since figured out that Steve hides a spare key under his ratty doormat.

“Why, I oughtta,” Steve grumbles back with his arm thrown across his face, still mostly asleep.

This doesn’t phase Bucky in the least. He grins, “Come on, pal. You gotta get up real quick if we’re gonna get to Coney Island.”

This is not a good day for Steve to go outside. The crisp breeze that anyone else would admire can only cause trouble breathing or even an asthmatic attack for Steve, but Steve is never one to turn Bucky down. The guy is Steve’s first real friend, for god’s sake. He doesn’t want to lose him just because he won’t go adventuring at the drop of a hat. So he gets ready to leave, bundling up nice and warm.

\---

Steve had known it wasn’t a good idea, but he had decided to come him with anyways, and damn it all if the cold is gonna keep him from having fun, or from at least trying to. He’s not going to allow his weakness hold him back. He was going to go on every ride that Bucky was, even if it killed him, which it probably would at this point.

The next ride on their mental list is The Cyclone, a rather daunting roller coaster by Steve’s perspective. Steve’s face stills, and his eyes grow wide looking up at it. The ride is labeled several times over in various fonts and colors and the signage proclaims the ride to be “faster than ever” in all caps. It’s wooden track sweeps grandly into formidable hills and daunting valleys, all framed by a brilliant blue sky matching Steve’s eyes.

“Scared?” asked Bucky, taking notice of Steve’s pale face and wide eyes, “Because we don’t hafta go on it if you don’t wanna.”

“No, I’m good” Steve gulps, forcing down his reserve and smiling grimly, “It’ll be... uh... fun.”

\---

Boy had he made a mistake getting onto that godforsaken ride. Shaking visibly, Steve makes his way over to the nearest bench. He plops right down, knowing that a second more of standing and his legs would’ve probably collapsed. Bucky follows a few seconds after, sitting down right next to Steve.

“You okay, Stevie?” he asks, offering a handkerchief from his pocket which Steve promptly declines, pulling out his own and promptly wiping his mouth with it.

“Yeah. Just fine and dandy.”

“There’s no need to be all tough, ya know,” Bucky said. His look showcasing his obvious displeasure with Steve, “You coulda told me it was a bad idea. Hell, I wouldna brought ya if I’da known you were sick.”

“I’m fine” Steve insists, glaring back.

“There’s no need to be such a little punk all the time, ya know.” Bucky sighs, getting up to walk away.

Bucky only gets a few yard way before Steve calls after him, “Yeah, well, you’re a jerk.”

Bucky turns, grinning back at him, “I know. I won’t make us go on any more rides. Okay?”

“Nuh-uh. You’re gonna go on every ride you planned, and without me to hold you back. I’m headin’ back.” Steve says, getting up from the bench.

“Well if you’re goin’, I’m goin’.” Bucky swings an arm over Steve’s shoulder.

“I won’t allow it. Have fun,” Steve says, shrugging out from underneath Bucky’s arm, “Replace me with something better. I’m sure you can pick up any one of the dames hangin’ around here.”

“There’s no such thing as better than you! And either you stay or we go.”

“I’m no fun though, Buck.”

“You’re plenty fun to me, Stevie.” 

Steve only glares back at Bucky, “Now you’re just makin’ fun of me.”

“There are plenty of better ways to make fun of you, Kid, and this ain’t one. Anyway I got a proposition for ya. I win that game right over there-” Bucky says pointing towards a booth labeled with the words “Ring Toss” in bright blue script, “- and I get to take you home, I lose and I’ll stay while you go on home without me.”

“As long as you don’t try and pull one over on me.”

“Never!” Bucky exclaims, eyes wide, “Cross my heart and hope to die,” he finishes solemnly.

 

“Fine.”

\---

He should’ve realized what he was getting himself into, Steve thinks to himself for the second time today as Bucky grins at him, holding out his prize. Why does this kid have to be so goddamned good at everything.

“Come on, take it!” Bucky says, still gesturing at Steve to take the offered bear, “You can name it after me.”

“What kind of a name is Annoying?” Steve grimaces, reluctantly takes the bear.

“I ain’t gonna stop you from naming him that.”

“Fine, I’ll name it-him, Bucky Bear.” The bear is surprisingly nice for a cheap boardwalk toy, and Steve clutches it closer as he realizes how cold he really is.

Seeing this, Bucky’s ever-present grin grows even wider, “Come on, let’s get you and Bucky Bear home.”

\---

Along the way home Steve ends up wearing Bucky’s coat. Upon their arrival at his apartment Steve insists on returning the jacket, but to no avail; The old tenement building is not much warmer than the weather outside and Bucky bustles about trying to find ways to warm Steve up. Without warmth Steve’s health tends to go into a steep decline, and on days when he is feeling particularly paranoid he thinks that the landlady is trying to kill him in order to rent out the apartment to someone else. Whether or not the she has planned it, the chill of his apartment is affecting his health.

Bucky has already tucked Steve and Bucky Bear into bed, Steve is still wearing the jacket. Bucky digs out an extra threadbare blanket from the cupboard and throws it onto Steve, who just grumbles. Bucky returns to the “kitchen” and bangs around a bit, pulling out a pot and placing it on the iron stove. Despite Bucky’s rattling around, Steve manages to nod off.

When he comes to, Bucky is seated next to him on the bed holding out a bowl of soup.

Steve groans, “Not again.”

“Be nice,” Bucky chides “I’m trying to help you, even if it tastes like it’ll kill ya.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but accepts the bowl, “I can take care of myself you know.”

Bucky just repositions Steve’s single pillow helping him to sit upright while he drinks.

After a while, Bucky breaks the silence, “I’m so sorry.”

“Whaddya mean?” Steve looks up at him.

“I mean that I’m real sorry. I only made you worse dragging you out to Coney Island.”

“Well it certainly didn’t make me better, but I was already sick before we left, Buck.”

“Don’t lie to me, kid.” Bucky glares, his usual grin long gone.

“I’m not. I made the decision to go with, even though I was feelin’ bad, Buck.”

“Don’t you kill yourself over me, Stevie,” he says solemnly “I ain’t worth it.”

“You are to me.” Steve says, lowering the now empty bowl.

“I don’t care, don’t you do it.”

Steve just gapes up at him. Ignoring his look, Bucky takes the bowl from Steve and returns it to the kitchen, leaving it in the sink. Leaning against the counter he rubs a hand down his face, sighing.

“You deserve better,” Bucky is quiet but Steve can still hear him from across the room.

“Sure, Buck. You too.”

“I’m serious, Steve. You deserve so much better.”

Steve grumbles and shifts over, patting the bed next to him. “I miss the old Bucky.”

“There is no ‘old Bucky’,” He crosses the room, sinking down onto the bed. “There’s just one Bucky, and I’m him.”

“Well, Bucky, whoever that is, is being a real jerk.”

Still upset, but unable to control his face when around Steve, Bucky grins. “Punk.”

Steve pulls on Bucky's arm until he lies down, and they quickly fall asleep; the Bear squashed between them.


End file.
